Sleep Well, Sweetheart
by xAethriax
Summary: This one was a challenge given by my friend. A series of one shots exploring reactions to character deaths, both OC and canon. Possible romance in some chapters. Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns everything you recognize as hers. DISCONTINUED.
1. Bittersweet Surprise

"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold..." The pillow seemed to sink a little, and Johnny died.

A loud curse came from the door and someone shoved passed us. Dally grunted a little, but he seemed frozen. He was just staring at Johnny as tears started to gather in his eyes.

"Damn it, Johnny! I told you I was comin' to get you baby. You knew I was on my way Johnnycakes, why couldn't you have just held on a little longer?" The visitor, a girl around 18, I was surprised to notice, was holding on to Johnny's hand like he was a life-preserver and she was lost in the ocean. A couple of tears escaped her eyes and she held on with her hands so tight around his that her knuckles were turning white.

"Who the hell are you?" Dally demanded. He roughly wiped at his eyes with a fist and glared at the stranger.

She turned to face us with a glare of her own. Dally's jaw dropped slightly and I felt my blood run cold. Seeing her was like seeing a ghost of Johnny. They had the same face, same eyes, and same black hair. She was real pale though, and her long curly hair was a tangled mess.

"I'm his sister Carolyn. Who the hell are you?" She snapped back.

I started to give our names, but Dally cut me off.

"Johnny never had a sister and I've known him since he was 13!"

"I ran away from home when he was 10!"

Dally's eyes narrowed and his voice got all tight. "And you left him in that house alone with your parents?"

She looked down to Johnny and stroked his hair. She was a lot quieter when she spoke again. "I woulda brought him along if I'da known he was still alive."

That seemed to throw Dally off and he didn't answer. I asked the question for him. "What do you mean 'if I knew he was still alive'?"

She gave me a sad smile. "Pa beat him so bad that he knocked poor Johnnycake out. He wasn't hardly breathing and Pa was coming after me so I turned tail and bolted and didn't look back. I hitchhiked all the way to Virginia before I realized he might still be alive. I came back but it took me a while. When I checked through the window to his room and it was all empty. I didn't know it, but he had moved to my old room. So I headed down south to New Orleans and found myself a steady little job at a diner."

"Then how'd you know to come back here again?"

"One of my friends was passing through and saw the headlines. She called me right up and I was so excited I rang the hospital and told him I was coming to bring him home with me so Ma and Pa would never be able to hurt him again." She had stopped crying, but her eyes stayed all misty. She ran a hand through his hair again, whispering softly. "Oh, precious child. At least you're somewhere better know. Lord knows you deserve it."

We both jumped a foot when Dally slammed a fist into the wall. He braced himself against it and swore.

Dallas Winston had been in and out of jail since he was ten years old. He never gave up, no matter how bad life got. But there, in that little room where the only person he had ever loved died, he broke down. The tears rolled down his face and he pounded the wall again.

It was unnerving. I thought of Dally as the toughest person alive. I never would have believed he would, no COULD, cry, let alone in front of a stranger.

Carolyn rose unsteadily, moisture gathering in her eyes too. She stumbled over to where he leaned against the wall with his back to the room. She reached up and touched his shoulder. I saw him tense up. I blinked and next thing I know they were sinking to the floor and holding and to each other and bawling. They were just two broken people, reaching out for someone who felt the same.

I wiped my own eyes as I walked out, closing the door behind me. I had to break the news to the rest of the gang.

* * *

All through out Johnny's funeral ceremony, two broken people held tightly on with cold hands. They both have fair skin, but anyone could see the lightness at their knuckles. The grip was almost painful, but neither loosened up. Sunlight was shining bright through the windows at the church. The little hero in the coffin up front looked more like he was sleeping than dead.

More people came than expected. The gang thought it was just going to be them and their families, and maybe a few of Carolyn's friends that had met Johnny when they were younger. Much to everyone's surprise, Buck Meril and the Shepard gang showed up. All of the children from the church and their parents were there too. The little kids didn't get it, but their parents were all serious and even a little misty eyed. A couple moms were even crying. Everyone knew why. That could have been their child being buried instead of that mysterious boy with black hair.

The two broken people didn't notice. They absorbed every word the preacher said, focusing as if their lives depended on it. He spoke of a place of great peace and love, where their only treasure would be free and happy at last. They were only words, but they offered a small comfort.

After he finished speaking, he asked if anyone wanted to add anything. A dad rose from the pew, and told the room that everyday he got to spend with his daughter he would thank Johnny for. A reporter got up to say that he was such an inspiring hero, and she would never forget his kindness.

The preacher called up the coffin bearers. It had six handles, and Carolyn had asked for Darry, Sodapop, Ponyboy, Two-Bit, Steve, and Dally to take him. As she put it, they had carried him when she couldn't and she would like them to carry her brother one last time.

Carolyn went up front with them. She had talked the preacher into letting her be the one to close the casket.

The two broken people look down on the boy's face one last time, memorizing his features. They release each other for the first time in days.

The broken woman strokes her little brother's hair. "I love you. Sleep well darling." She closes the lid and locks it.

* * *

Five years later, two healing people kneel in the grass.

They clean off the little headstone and lay fresh flowers in front of it. A little picture of a laughing teenager grins out at them. The healing man holds the healing woman with one hand and rubs the picture with the other. The healing woman smiles gently and rubs her bulging stomach with her free hand. The healing man notices and grins impishly at her. The healing woman notices the look and smacks him lightly on the arm.

"Don't look so proud of yourself," she scolds. He laughs.

"You weren't complaining before," he replies with a roguish smirk. She rolls her eyes but blushes.

"Well, what do you think Johnny?" She directs her question to the sky, not the headstone. "We decided we want it to be a surprise when the baby's born. Even if the baby is a girl, we're going to name it Johnny. After you of course, you are the one that brought us together."

Dally nodded. He directed his words to the sky as well. "Can't say I forgive you for the way you did it, but I owe you Johnnycakes."

Carolyn grinned at Dally. "Dallas Winston, did I just hear you hint that you are happy in a relationship with a baby on the way?"

"Course not," he replied immediately. He winked, "That just might mean I love you or something crazy like that."

She snorted. "Something insane you mean."

He laughed and pecked her lips. They fell into a comfortable silence still gazing at the headstone. After a while, they heard a loud voice behind them.

"Aww, look at the greaser and his little girlfriend! I think they're on a date. Couldn't afford anywhere better than surrounded by dead bodies, grease?"

Carolyn sighed. "Make sure he hits first. I'm due in a month; if you're in the cooler for assault when the baby comes I'm going to kick your ass."

He smirked. "Will do." He kissed her head and sauntered over to the group of Socs.

Sitting on her little brother's grave, with the sun beating down and the wind through her hair, and the sounds of her boyfriend beating a rich kid's face in; Carolyn smiled. Her life was bittersweet, but she wouldn't trade it for the world.

. . .Until she heard the sirens coming closer.


	2. Janie's Got a Gun

**Idea for this chapter inspired by Aerosmith's song "Janie's Got a Gun".**

* * *

Janie was hiding in the basement. Ma and Pa were fighting again. They fought before, but now that Johnny was gone they had one less person to take their anger out on. They usually couldn't find her down here, so they would go at it for hours.

When Johnny was alive, he would always let them beat him before he would let them find her. Janie told him she could take it, but he wouldn't listen. He told her to always stay out of sight, and maybe they would forget her. They both knew it wouldn't happen, but it was the only hope they had.

Janie hadn't been outside in seven years. She was thirteen now, she must have been about six last time.

It was like being stuck in a birdcage. Light could seep in, but she couldn't go out. The only food she got was what someone put in. Anyone could poke at her or shake the cage. And the door was always locked.

She wished they would just have paid the phone bill once more. Johnny helped her memorize the number to reach his friends. The Curtis boys, or something like that. But their line didn't work anymore, and she had no way to get to a payphone, let alone afford the cost of the call.

There was a loud bang upstairs. The yelling stopped. She could hear Pa coming down.

"Janie, where are you hiding you worthless little bitch?"

Janie froze, her heart pounded. Pa stumbled around, he was drunk again. He gave up quickly.

"I'll find you eventually. You gotta eat sometime."

She exhaled sharply after he left. A silent tear worked its way down her cheek. She needed to get out.

Janie searched the entire basement for a weapon. Buried deep in a corner was Grandaddy's old revolver. She loaded it with shaking hands and crept upstairs.

Ma was on the floor. Her hair had matted with blood, and her chest didn't move. It looked like Pa pushed her and she hit her head. One thing was clear though. Ma was dead as a doornail. Janie should have been relieved. Ma would never yell at her again. Instead, she felt cold dread. She was the only one Pa could go after now.

Something inside Janie had been coiled too tightly for too long. Seeing Ma dead gave the final twist needed to make her snap.

Pa made it so easy. He fell asleep on the couch with his back to the basement door. His head was on the armrest.

Janie lifted the revolver and put it to his temple. Pa opened his eyes, and she saw the change from confusion to horror right before she pulled the trigger.

The shot was the loudest noise she had ever heard, and the silence after the quietest. The recoil had made her drop the gun. Pa's blood stained her clothes and some got in her hair and on her face.

She worked on mental autopilot. Her dirty black hair gathered sweat as she retrieved the gun and dragged Pa to the car.

She could hear sirens in the distance. It was a common sound in the neighborhood, but Janie was spooked. She shoved Pa under the seat and jammed the keys in the ignition. Johnny had always said that if she had to get away and he wasn't there that she had to go to the lot. She remembered his directions, and she floored the gas to get there.

It wasn't long before the flashing lights appeared in her rearview mirror. But she was almost there, oh _God,_ she was almost there. She didn't care what happened after; if she made it that meant she got out.

The sirens got louder. There were three cars behind her.

Tires squealing, she turned sharply and parked. A group of boys stopped playing football to watch curiously as the police vehicles parked to prevent her from driving off again.

Janie didn't notice. She was bawling. She never would have thought she could ever feel so relieved.

She climbed out of the car, ignoring the police yelling at her to drop the gun.

A gentle breeze ran through her tangled black locks. Her eyes closed as she tipped her head back. She felt serene; the first time she ever remembered feeling at peace.

The dark eyes opened as she looked wildly at the sky.

"I made it Johnny! I made it! Pa killed Ma and I shot him! I shot him Johnny! After every time he ever hit you, he got what was coming to him! I tried to call that 555-1976 number, but the bills weren't paid. I made it to the lot though, it's just where you said it is! Oh Johnny, I wish you could be here with me. This is the first time I've been outside since that time you took me to the park. I-"

"PUT THE GUN DOWN OR WE WILL SHOOT!"

Janie turned startled eyes to the cops. All of them had guns pointed at her. She was frozen, she couldn't respond.

"PUT IT DOWN NOW!"

Her hand slipped and a bullet fired into the concrete.

There were so many loud noises. The sirens still screamed. Six guns discharged, multiple times. The boys that had played football earlier were all yelling. There was a clatter of the revolver falling, and the girl fell on the ground.

The football guys bent over her in a circle, through the narrow gap between their heads, she gazed at the sky with a shining tear running down her cheek.

"See you real soon big brother. I love you Johnny."

Two-Bit, Steve, and the Curtis brothers stared down at the girl on the pavement. It was like seeing a younger, female Johnny. They had the same black hair and eyes. Her skin sharply contrasted, closer to the porcelain than flesh. Her pink shirt and white skirt were both dirty, with violent red stains. Some of it dried, but more was fresh from seeping gun wounds. There was an ugly smear of it across her cheek. Behind them, the police opened the car door and a body tumbled out. The boys jumped, recognizing the features of Mr. Cade.

After a long silence, Darry reached out and closed her eyes.

"Rest in peace, Little Cade."

* * *

The newspapers were ablaze for weeks with the story.

They all took different narrators, but each told the heart breaking story. The story of the neglectful who mother, murdered in a fight with her husband. The story of the abusive father, who drove his daughter to desperation. The story of the son that gave his life to save children from a burning church two years ago, leaving his hard life behind. The story of the sister that had to fight her own way out because everyone forgot her. The story of the police officers that cut a young girl's life short because of their trigger happy fingers.

Newspapers get thrown away; articles forgotten. But one thing always remains. In a small cemetery, a double headstone rests under a big willow tree. Every month, a group of teenage boys visit to pay their respects.

_Jonathan "Johnny" Cade Janice "Janie" Cade_  
_March 1, 1949-June 16, 1966 November 8,1952-February 28, 1967_

_Both brother and sister showed the world the true meaning of bravery._

_May their reunited souls rest in peace._

_Sleep well, darlings._


End file.
